


What a Pretty Sight

by whereismywarden (PearOh)



Series: Non-canon DA stories [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blasphemy, F/M, Light Bondage, Mages and Templars, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20194060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PearOh/pseuds/whereismywarden
Summary: (Tumblr prompt) Samson is reunited with his Inquisitor after some time away.





	What a Pretty Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt for @norroendyrd: "What a pretty sight." for Violette/Samson.

Scout Lorna escorted Samson through the long corridors of Skyhold, through the kitchens and the servants’ passageways, all the way up to the Inquisitor’s private quarters. They'd done it before. Many times, in fact. So often that he could probably find his way alone and blindfolded. But the dwarf served a purpose. She was there to make sure he wouldn't get caught. Commander Cullen didn't like seeing him roam the halls unsupervised, and he certainly would not approve of his current dalliance with the Lady Inquisitor. So Lorna would come to fetch him in the middle of the night and take him to Violette without a word. It occurred to him, as she was leading him through a concealed door, that neither of them had ever struck up a conversation with the other. They just walked together in silence until they reached the final door: the Inquisitor's bedchambers. Frankly, Samson wasn’t even sure the woman  _ could _ talk. Not that he minded — he wasn’t particularly chatty either.

The second she shut the door behind him, Samson ran up the stairs two steps at a time, almost in desperation. Violette had been gone for weeks, closing rifts in Emerald Graves, or so he’d been told. He wasn't a clingy sort of man, but he was a man and he was burning with desire at the thought of seeing her again.

He found her on the balcony overlooking the mountains, the moon shining brightly behind her, giving her an almost ethereal glow. She was leaning on the balustrade with her eyes closed and a small breeze blowing softly through her hair. Maker, she was beautiful.

She slowly turned around to face him. “Are you going to stand there gaping all night?”

“I was just enjoying the view,” he croaked, his throat suddenly dry. “You look like Andraste in that nightgown, you know.”

Or at least, she looked like the most common depictions of the prophet, with her delicate white gown and blonde hair hanging loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. 

She chuckled softly. “Isn’t that considered blasphemy to compare an elven mage to the Holy Prophet?”

“No more than branding that same elven mage her Herald, I’d gather,” he said with a shrug. “Besides…” His voice trailed off as his eyes lingered on her small curves. “Blasphemy makes you all hot and bothered as I recall.”

“Hot, you say?”

She conjured up a small fireball in her hands and presented it in front of her like the Holy Brazier. Samson took an instinctive step back, his templar training almost kicking in. She stood there for a while, the fire projecting dancing shadows over her face like she truly was Andraste standing on the pyre. She gave him a smug smile before closing her hands around the flame to extinguish it.

“If I’m Andraste, then does that make you Hessarian?” she purred, walking into the room, her hips swaying under the thin fabric of her nightgown. “Ready to strike me down with your big sword?”

“The Archon?” he huffed. “Why not Maferath?”

She quirked an eyebrow and her lips twitched into a smirk. “Why? Are you planning to betray me? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? What with Corypheus already gone and everything.” She was now standing mere inches from him, so close that he could smell the lingering scent of smoke from her spell. “No, Hessarian the Redeemed fits you much better.”

He bent down to kiss her. “I just don’t think Hessarian ever fucked Andraste, that’s all.”

“Depends on which books you read.”

Samson let his fingers tug at the laces of her nightgown with eagerness. It took him a great deal of restraint not to tear it open to free her breasts. Violette closed her eyes, sighing with pleasure as he gently reached out to fondle them. His lips trailed along her neckline, planting delicate kisses that sent shivers down her spine. Samson took a moment to relish the sensation of her heart beating for him, faster and faster and faster… 

“If I’m to be Hessarian, then does that make you my prisoner?” he murmured into her ear. “Maybe I should tie you up.”

A wide grin spread across her face. “Maybe you should.”

Violette kept a set of long silk scarves neatly folded in her wardrobe. They were gifts from an Orlesian merchant eager to earn the favours of the Inquisition. Samson wondered if the man knew what his goods were being used for. Probably, he figured. What other usage could silk scarves possibly have?

He pressed Violette's back against the nearest bedpost with a long, deep kiss, feeling her smile with anticipation at every step they made. He gently bound her wrists together with the first scarf before pinning her arms up above her head to tie them to the bedpost. He then wrapped a second scarf around her hips, and a few more around her breasts, encircling them in a figure of eight. 

He let her legs free. They might need the flexibility.

“Are you good?” he checked with her as he took a step back to admire his work. “Not too tight?”

“No, it’s fine.”

He didn't make a show of undressing — he was too rough, his movements were too heavy for that — but he made a point of taking his clothes off slowly, almost achingly so. He knew how wild it made her.

“Too bad I’m already tied up. You look like you could use a hand in polishing that sword.”

“I can polish that sword well enough on my own.”

“I suppose you must be an expert after a few decades of serving the Chantry,” she teased him, breaking character.

“I’ll show you how much of an expert I am.”

He crushed his mouth against hers in a ferocious kiss, tongues clashing, lips biting in lustful passion. She let out a muffled whimper, fidgeting and tugging on her restraints when he pulled away from her. This time however, Samson didn't leave her wanting very long. He ran his fingers under the hem of her nightgown and lifted it above her hips. He let his left hand work on her most sensitive part while he clasped the right one around his length. She soon started to pull harder on her bounds, her breathing quickening, her hips begging for more.

“Please,” she moaned as he was moving his fingers between her legs frantically. “Please, have mercy.”

Samson pulled back, a grin spreading across his lips at the sight of her bound and helpless. He dug his fingers into her thighs and hooked her legs around his hips before slipping inside of her. She gasped as he rocked his hips back and forth against her, pushing deeper with each thrust. Her moans filled the room, sweet music to his ears. Her eyes, half closed in perfect bliss, bore into his and he found himself unable — or rather, unwilling — to look away from her face. Those two silverite daggers shining with raw lust for him… The pearls of sweat trickling down her forehead… Her lips, slightly parted, awaiting his kisses… Maker, what a pretty sight.

Unfortunately, they were both getting on their years and Samson wasn’t sure he could keep this up long enough to fully satisfy her. Violette might not have weighted much, but this was far from the most comfortable position for him — or her.

“Do you want to move it to the bed?” she asked him between two heavy breaths as he was starting to lose his pace.

He thanked her with a passionate kiss before untying her. She let herself fall onto the mattress with grace, taking him down with her as she hooked her now free arms around his neck. 

“Worship me,” she whispered to him. “Worship me like you've never worshipped the real Andraste before.”

And so he did.


End file.
